Дэвид Балдаччи - Long Road to Mercy

The storm passed in a half hour and the sky cleared.

Now she could get to work. Checking her compass, she set off.

The second side canyon loomed ahead of her about an hour later.

It was nearing midnight. She used her night optics to make her way over very rough terrain. There were no marked trails or warning signs here. She doubted any hiker had been here in a long time.

She worked her way slowly along, looking for snakes and other dangers. She didn’t want to get wedged in somewhere with the result that they found her body weeks, months, or years later. People had gone missing here only to have their skeletons found a long time later. And if you died out here, the scavengers would move in swiftly. Before you were dead, actually. Why wait on a good meal?

She had been on the alert for the M4 gents all night, but luckily had not run into them.

She had gone over as much of the side canyon as she feasibly could, and it was growing light.

The result: nothing. No cave, no crevice, no David Roth and a neighborhood nuke.

She hiked on and made her camp near the next canyon she would explore. It was shielded from prying eyes, but it was reasonably high ground and gave her a good view of the area. She had some breakfast and water and dozed off for a bit. When she woke a few hours later she again debated whether to commence her search during the daylight.

Then she heard choppers overhead.

She looked up and recognized the tourist birds flying over above the rims. By law they couldn’t drop below the rims, but someone could still spot her. That confirmed Pine’s decision to confine her searches to the nighttime.

She sat at her camp, munching on some nuts and jerky and sipping her filtered water. She was hot, and she had lost weight, and she felt stiff and sore from basically sleeping on rocks.

She leaned back against an outcrop, closed her eyes, and tried to rest. With her days and nights reversed, her body rhythms had been turned topsy-turvy. It was throwing everything off, but she had no way to correct that.

She had a phone power pack, which did her no good, since she had no bars.

“No Service” on her phone screen had been the most consistent thing about this trip.

In the shade, she decided to take off some layers and looked down at her arms, bare except for the tats. She rubbed her fingers across the name Mercy. She traced each letter with her finger. She remembered quite clearly the day — or rather, night — she had gotten them. She had done her shoulders a few months after her arms.

The tat artist was good and made no objection when she told him what she wanted. He’d also asked no questions about the genesis of the inking she wanted.

“Works for you, works for me,” he’d said. “It’s your skin, not mine.”

His name had been Donny. He’d been tall and far too thin. He later told her he’d been a meth addict for years.

“Kills the appetite, I can tell you that. More than cigarettes. Kicked the habit, but never got my appetite back.”

Pine checked her supplies. She had to consider the long hike back to Bright Angel from where she was now. And then it would be a challenging hike out, considering how much ground she’d covered so far. She had the supplies to search one more side canyon tonight. Then she would have to head back.

Well, Pine thought, as she waited for the darkness to fall, the third time was always the charm, wasn’t it?

For the first time since seeing the M4 guys, her optics fastened on something of interest. She had awoken while it was still light and decided to venture a little into the side canyon. The sun was high in the sky, powerful enough to reach into the depths of the Canyon like a trillion-watt light dumped into the ocean.

And, right now, that sunlight was catching on something farther up the side canyon.

She looked to the left and right to gain some plot points to help her locate it later. She was tempted to try now, only it was brutally hot, there was little wind, and it looked to be quite a hike. And it was still daylight. It seemed to be something metallic. And she assumed it wasn’t a beer can. At least she hoped it wasn’t.

She kept staring at it through her optics, memorizing every detail of the path she would take. At night, things looked different. She couldn’t afford to lose the spot when she made her attempt later. Fortunately, there was a very unusual rock configuration to the immediate right of the reflection.

She returned to her camp, and ate and drank and daydreamed that come nightfall she would find Roth.

And the bomb.

Or maybe I’m wrong about all of this. And I’ll find nothing. So, what will my second career be after the FBI cans my ass?

The fact was, this was way out of her league. She was an FBI agent. Give her a bank robbery, a kidnapping, even a serial killer or two, and she would do fine. She would catch her man.

This was not that.

She closed her eyes, then swiftly opened them.

No, this is not a dream. This might be the end of the world if that nuke goes off.

She forced herself to sleep, but set an automatic alarm clock in her head. She awoke at eleven p.m. ready to roll.

Pine was climbing over several large rocks when she heard a rattle that froze her for an instant, but then she kept going.

She reached a plateau and looked around, and then down. She figured she had scaled close to a thousand feet.

The odd rock assemblage she had seen during the day presented itself to her through her night optics. She hurried toward it. Was the Holy Grail lurking just up ahead? Or would it be something totally and completely unconnected to her search?

Please, God, if you can get reception down here, make it the former.

She stiffened and then halted as she drew closer.

The light had been reflecting off something metallic.

It was a pole. A long, collapsible pole that was leaning up against a round boulder taller than Pine and more than three times her width.

As she grew closer, Pine noted something truly astonishing. Camouflage netting was hanging off the rock wall. She wouldn’t have noticed it except for being this close. It perfectly blended in with the surroundings.

She gripped one edge of the covering and tugged. She peered through the opening this created.

Pine gasped.

A cave. She glanced at her compass. This spot was well within the parameters left on the flash drive. Had she just found Roth? And the bomb?

She let the cover fall back into place, took a step back, and peered around. There was no evidence that anyone had been here. But somebody had to have put up the covering. About thirty seconds went by as she contemplated what to do.

Pine heard nothing, no boot hitting rock. No squawks from a comm pack. No heavy breathing.

She heard nothing until the light hit her and the man said, “Turn around very slowly. Do not let your hand go anywhere near your weapon or we will open fire.”

“I’m FBI. I’m going to show you my creds.”

His next words hit her like one of Chung’s massive kicks.

“Don’t bother, Agent Pine. Turn around and keep your hands away from your weapon. Do it!”

She slowly turned, her hands held up near her chest, but no higher. She wasn’t preparing to draw down like they were standing in the middle of the OK Corral. But her hands fully up in the air would signal complete surrender. She was an FBI agent. She wasn’t surrendering to these guys, whoever the hell they were.

And it indeed did appear to be the same three men from the other night.

“What are you doing down here?” barked Pine.

“I don’t see you having the leverage to ask us questions,” said the man.